by Sara Fitzpatrick Comito
My smallest poem. Thanks, Short, Fast, and Deadly.
What a solid and unexpected punch from so short a string of words. Let there also be cookies.
And let Fred Rogers in, too. *
Better call my kid and hug my dog, right now.
This is the second time I've been bowled over by 12 words. Must be a magic number in the right hands.
Oh, cookies and Fred Rogers, yes. And Carol, do go call your kid and hug your dog. Life is precious, and so are all you people for reading and commenting. You warm my heart.
I imagine a similar heaven for my pets, with all the carrots they can eat.*
A potent miniature.
Another side of Issa in its punch and tone. Especially like the way the imagery connects here. A great piece.
Thank you, Joani and Gary.
Amanda, then so it shall be.
Sam, that's so lovely of you. I didn't know anything about Issa, but reading now about his life I find that if anyone knew about loss, it was he.
Everything I touch
with tenderness, alas,
pricks like a bramble.
(Translation: Peter Beilenson with Harry Behn)
Lovely poem, Sara!
Nicely done, Sara.
Bill and Darryl, thank you both.
Nice work! It reads like Rumi:-)
Fresh and to the point.*
Gary, thank you. Diana, you made me smile :)
how did you do this?
This was a necessary poem, which came out fully formed. Doesn't usually happen that way, of course, and my work isn't usually so biographical, but there you go! It's healing to me that so many folks found something in this that works for them.